Glory Days
by azizah
Summary: Dooku learns of the events of JA book #7 and his former padawan’s involvement.
1. Chapter 1

My first attempt at Dooku, so I am a little nervous.

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The legendary Jedi Master bowed low to the two opposing party delegates. The movement was graceful and effortless, showing none of the awkwardness superiors sometimes felt when deferring to inferiors, a distinction granted the Jedi in all three minds present. The act was graciousness itself. But then Dooku was always gracious, especially in victory. And he was the victor here, even if he was the only one who truly understood that.

In a mere handful of days he had single handedly averted a war that would have taken an army of the republic, if such a much needed thing existed, bloody years to settle. Even the Jedi Council had been impressed, and they had sent him expecting results. Dooku himself expected nothing less.

The problem was age old but nothing out of the ordinary. A lower class grown powerful by successful commerce, carelessly wielding their new-found power for change and self promotion, full of insolence and avarice, a thing Dooku abhorred. An archaic nobility, scholarly and dignified, shunning anything that resembled progress, who had allowed themselves to grow weak and defenseless, something almost more abhorrent in Dooku's mind.

If lives were not at stake it would almost seem juvenile, a school yard matter really, compel the bully and empower his victims.

What was required was not a warrior, nor even a diplomat. What was needed was a teacher and it sometimes pleased Dooku to see himself in that light. Such a noble profession. Yes, all that was required was a teacher, with the right skills and proper understanding. And a firm hand.

Dooku suppressed a sigh, there were times when he almost found it too easy. Still, he stood patiently listening to the necessary platitudes expressed by both sides, in his mind already considering the possibility of requesting another mission from the council. With the challenging work done, there was little left to hold his interest. Too much the model Jedi to be bored, he did allow that it all left him feeling a bit flat.

It was time to move on.

The First Consul for the grand regency addressed the Jedi, "Master Dooku, I have been informed that the diplomatic emissary team from the senate has just arrived from Coruscant. I have ordered refreshments to be served in the great hall, will you join us in receiving them?"

"I would be honored, your grace."

Dooku followed the men out of the formal office and down the long corridor toward the receiving room. The carpet was luxuriously plush and the walls lined with priceless pieces of art from across the galaxy, the real thing, not holographic reproductions, even that Wrang dynasty vase was real, exquisitely beautiful, but hopelessly fragile. One wrong step by a gangly teenaged padawan would cause a diplomatic disaster it would take days to sort out.

_Force. Where had that thought come from?_

Dooku was amused at the strange workings of his mind, it had been years since he'd had a padawan trailing after him. His mouth unknowingly twisted into a half smile at the thought, with Qui-Gon Jinn for an apprentice, one was rarely bored. Always watching, always questioning, things his master had done or not done, not to mention the boy's perverse attachment to certain lower life forms, it was a wonder they had accomplished anything.

But they had. Looking back, it seemed a time of unique clarity and focus, a time when anything and everything seemed possible. Maybe it had just been youthful naiveté or perhaps time had colored his perceptions. Whatever the reality, his years as Qui-Gon's master been anything but dull.

Did he miss it? Perhaps. He certainly was not considering acquiring another padawan. There were other things one could find to occupy ones time.

"Master Dooku, this is a pleasant surprise."

Dooku bowed to acknowledge the lead emissary from the Senate, "Senator Taylar. The pleasure is mine, as always."

The senator was a tall, elegant human with good features and a pleasant face, and, Dooku discreetly observed, he was as impeccably dressed as always. Dooku had worked with the senator before, but to say that he knew him well would be a misrepresentation. Dooku had found him to be a very complex being.

On the surface Taylar seemed harmless enough, a social snob and an incurable gossip, concerned only for being seen with the right people in the right places. Dooku had noticed however, that although he represented a planet with no political clout, by careful maneuvering, he had attained quite a bit of social power in certain circles on Coruscant.

Senatorial spouses held their breaths until they received his response to invitations for parties they hosted. And Dooku suspected that Taylar at times turned this social power into political capital. It was always wise to keep a political spouse happy, if not the consequences were often politically and publicly humiliating.

He had an almost foppish attention to fashion that Dooku found amusing when he realized it covered a keen observation of character and insight into the motivations and appetites of many beings. Little escaped Senator Taylar's notice.

He was a good talker and could be very entertaining, carefully aware of his audience's preferences. He had a pleasantly malicious streak, and Dooku had once spent an enjoyable evening listening to his bawdy speculation regarding the personal lives and personality quirks of certain Jedi Council members. That and an excellent Brandy had been the only redeeming moments of a particularly dreadful political reception.

The Senator was a wealth of information, and as much as Dooku had been amused at his conjecture, he had to admit the man knew some surprising details about the inner workings of the Jedi.

In the past, Dooku had found him very useful for both information and introductions, and had not been unwilling to exchange information and opinions, if one could just keep the man off the subject of political intrigue. It seemed that there was no scandal in all the Senate that did not reach his ears. Dooku would have found him very valuable indeed had he at all cared who had fathered the Princess of Tarones third child or who had replaced the second mistress of the senator from Alkrane. Still there was a quality to Taylar's apparent foolishness that put Dooku on guard. The man was not the fool many supposed.

Dooku was glad to see him however, if he was a well informed as usual, there would be no need to bring him up to speed. Dooku could leave at once.

"The leaders here must be grateful that Master Yoda and the Council can spare you at such a time."

Dookup kept his face expressionless. The senator was doing what he did best, fishing for information. He was of course referring to the recent lockdown at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Dooku had received the communiqué warning Jedi away as had all Jedi out on assignment. And although the Jedi kept their business to themselves, Dooku would not be surprised to find that these events were now common knowledge in some parts of the Senate.

"A security breach, nothing more, I assure you. Master Yoda is quite capable of handling the matter without my interference," Dooku replied pleasantly enough, masking his disinterest. _The latest gossip from the senate, how tiresome._ The Jedi master wondered how soon he would be able to bow his leave and be off.

"Security breach! You Jedi and your ever indomitable Jedi calm. My word, from what I gather the Temple was very nearly destroyed!"

"Indeed! An exaggeration to be sure." Dooku smiled blandly, never betraying his surprise. The very idea was absurd. Surely the Council had not let things get so far out of hand.

The temple destroyed….He turned the idea over in his mind and wondered how he felt about it. Many Jedi viewed the temple as home, but Dooku had no such misplaced sentimentality. But the loss of life, the younglings, the very future of the Jedi and the Council, Dooku found himself counting the council members he knew to be in residence, a staggering loss for the Jedi. Imagine the Jedi with no temple, scattered across the galaxy, homeless, leaderless.

The Jedi would rebuild of course, and here Dooku found some solace, a new temple and a new start, away from Coruscant, out from under that ever creeping shadow of corruption, free at last from the control of that parody of democracy, that collection of common thieves and power grasping miscreants, the Senate.

Senator Taylar laughed and shook his head, his sharp eyes never leaving Dooku's face, "Ever the grand stoic, one wonders if you have any true feelings at all for your brethren. But I forget to whom I am speaking, such detachment is probably much admired among Jedi. And such an exemplary Jedi you are, a rock of the Jedi order, a pillar of unshakeable faith. I wonder if the Jedi are aware how deeply indebted they are to you.

At this Dooku merely raised an eyebrow.

The senator laughed again, "Don't play the fool, my fine Jedi friend, it ill becomes you. I have done my research you see, so I am well aware of your connection to recent events, which I might add, without your influence could well have taken a different turn."

Dooku was growing tired of this little game, he shifted his gaze away from the senator and made as if to move on in the crowded reception room, "Forgive me senator, duty calls, I must pay my respects to the grand regent and his family. Pray excuse me."

The senator shrugged and raised his hands theatrically, "I see you have more important things on your mind, so I humbly admit defeat. Far be it for a simple senator like me to attempt to understand the doings of the mighty Jedi Order. I will trouble you no more, if you would just answer one question. Tell me is it true, what I have heard? That the source of the Jedi's current problems, that the cause of all this bother is none other than your former apprentice, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn?"

Dooku's mask of perfect Jedi slipped, and just for a moment he stared.

It was a sign of the true perverseness of the senator's personality that once he had gotten the full and undivided attention of his subject, that when at last his audience was thoroughly captivated, that he abruptly and completely changed the subject.

"You must excuse me, Master Jedi, I too have been remiss in my duty. As much as I have enjoyed our little talk, it simply won't do to ignore the Citizen's First Speaker any longer. No, no, don't trouble yourself about me, I already know who he is, I can smell provincial a parsec away. Good grief, cheap is one thing, but when people throw away good credits on bad clothes, it really is unforgivable." And with that he was off, working the room with the experience of a veteran.

Impulsive was not a word Dooku would use to describe himself. Deliberate, methodical, and calculating were words that more often came to mind. So he could not explain how his ever increasing desire to move on, his determination to find some new challenge, his resolve to take on some new assignment had completely evaporated in the space of a few moments of idle chatter.

Maybe he had already found a new mission. All thought of flight forgotten, he turned his deliberate, methodical and calculating mind to the matter at hand, finding the answer to one simple question.

_Just what the devil was going on back home?!_


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you **Ann Jinn**. **Kaelir of Lorien** - You are right. Thanks for the careful reading

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Lights flickered on automatically as he stepped out onto the deserted terrace. Dooku waived them off impatiently. He preferred the darkness, there was nothing here to see but fountains and flowers. Had he been in the mood for pleasant scenery his personal preference would have run more toward the magnificent view of the glimmering cityscape, distant and perfect, far below in the valley.

He stood looking out for some time, so deep in his own thoughts that the lightest touch on his cheek startled him out of his brooding stupor. Glow moths. Their tiny insect song and soft whisper motion of their wings suddenly loud in his ear as they swarmed past him, drawn toward the warmth and light of the reception from which he had fled. Dooku had no such inclination. He moved a step further, out of the light into the shadow, the muted talk and laugher from the party inside followed him.

Dooku released a slow breath of uncharacteristic frustration. Inside, Taylar was in top form, full of flattery and sympathy, wit and good humor, flitting about the room from group to group just like one of these damnable insects. Try as he might, Dooku could not get the man alone.

The solution his dilemma was simple, of course. And it was under that pretence that Dooku had come away from the light and laughter to this dark corner.

He looked down at the comlink in his hand and hesitated. It really was a simple matter. The distance to Coruscant was not so great, he could know the truth of the matter in moments. He had but to ask and his former apprentice would willingly tell him everything. Qui-Gon had never denied his master anything that was within his power to give. It was just that it had been a long time.

Far too long, Dooku admitted with a sigh.

And how did one begin that conversation.

_It has come to my attention that you've been in a bit of trouble lately. Come Padawan, the truth now, were you really responsible for the near destruction of the Temple? _

But in all truth, he knew that this was not the real issue. Dooku was no more afraid of a few awkward moments than he was of losing a light saber duel to an initiate. No lack of proper words had ever stood between him and his padawan.

No, it was not the words that Dooku dreaded, it was something else. A subtlety so fine it should have been lost within the intricacies of interstellar communication. But it was there, broken down into parts, hurtled across the galaxy and perfectly recreated in the re-synthesized voice of his apprentice, and Dooku always recognized it immediately even though it was a quality he had never thought to connect to himself. Defeat.

_That bastard, Xanatos!_

With an effort, he quelled some rather un-Jedi-like emotions, and brought his thoughts into focus. He would not go down that road tonight.

Dooku glanced back inside, if anything the crowd around Taylar had grown.

There were other Jedi he could go to for answers. His own former master, Master Yoda, or his friend, Mace Windu both would readily and easily talk to him. But still he hesitated.

After a long moment, he keyed on his com and entered his identification code followed by another series of numbers.

The connection was instant, though no shimmering holographic form appeared before him in the darkness. This communication was strictly audio. There was no reason for a visual, the Temple's assignment system was completely automated. With the proper access codes, the system gave the current status of all Jedi knights. When prompted, Dooku entered the code for Qui-Gon Jinn, it was a long code, but his fingers moved with a deft familiarity across the keypad.

A beat and then confirmation. _Active - On assignment_. A small green light flashing on screen confirmed the same information.

He closed the link, feeling slightly ridiculous, it was invariably the same. It was true that on a handful of occasions he had felt a sort of hollow justification at the unexpected blink of an anemic yellow alert light. Inactive. Usually followed by contact coordinates for the healer's ward in the Jedi Temple. But these rare occurrences could be measured in the space of days. Or nights, passed with interminable slowness in some far corner of the galaxy.

Entering another code would have allowed Dooku to leave a message or if possible, convey the coordinates necessary for contacting the knight in question. He never did.

With smooth swiftness, he pocketed his comlink and turned toward the door just as the terrace was flooded with unwelcome light.

A shining silver droid stepped outside, carrying a tray of drinks. Its stuttering movements and round visual receptors gave it the appearance of uncertainty. When it caught sight of him, its head tilted slightly to one side, increasing the effect.

"Might I offer you some refreshment, Master Jedi?"

Dooku opened his mouth to politely decline, but was cut off by a familiar voice.

"No, no, no, the master Jedi wants no part of that kdak slime you are serving. Now be off with you, back to the other guests. You are not wanted here."

Senator Taylar brushed past the droid and gave a disparaging look to the tray of brightly hued beverages that the droid politely held up for his inspection. He carefully lifted a rather sticky looking pink beverage and gave an elegant shudder of disgust. "You would do well to serve that to the Honorary Second Jurist's first wife. It will go quite nicely with that disaster of pink confection she is wearing."

Taylar watched the droid shuffle back inside then turned toward Dooku, his face flush with pleasure and his dark eyes sparkling with an emotion Dooku could not quite identify. He wondered if the man was intoxicated, either from drink or something else entirely.

"You must join me in a drink and I promise you this one is well worth drinking." With a flourish, he produced an expensive looking metal flagon covered with intricate carvings and topped with a stamped air-lock seal. From another source under his stylish many-layered short cape, he produced two cut crystal glasses.

"Unless I am interrupting something important?" Taylar feigned a look around although he could plainly see that the master Jedi was alone.

"Of course not, Senator."

With a self satisfied look on his face, Taylar broke the seal on the container with elaborate care, poured out the lovely amber colored liquor and offered a glass to Dooku. The Jedi master accepted it graciously despite his misgivings.

"A toast then," the senator lifted his glass, smiling appreciatively at the glowing amber liquor. "To peace."

"To peace." Dooku raised his glass slightly then lowered it, contemplatively breathing in the volatile complexity of a very fine Corellian Brandy. He waited. He knew the senator was not finished.

"And to the Jedi, may their wisdom guide us and their strength protect us for many generations to come."

Dooku merely tilted his head in slight acknowledgement and drank.

"And to Qui-Gon Jinn, savior of the Jedi Order and protector of the Republic."

It was not a bad brandy. True, the sharp acidity cutting through the subtle sweetness was a merit only a sophisticated palate could fittingly appreciate, but this was a taste Dooku had cultivated long ago. It should have gone down smoothly, not stalled and curdled in his throat, sending hot prickly fumes up his nasal passages, constricting his airway and making his eyes water.

A lesser man might have choked or quite possibly even have spewed a mouthful of the expensive liquid all over his companion's even more expensive clothes, but if his years as a Jedi had taught Dooku nothing else they had taught him to breathe. A steady inhale to quell the muscle spasms in his throat, a thorough exhale to dissipate the fumes, it seemed an eternity before he could trust his voice to speak.

Still, his voice sounded weak to his own ears, or maybe it was just the words he was surprised to hear out of his own mouth. "I fear I am somewhat ignorant of recent events on Coruscant. There have been other matters that have required my attention of late."

The last bit almost refused to come out, this time it was the humble words that caught in his throat. Another breath, "Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me what you know."

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	3. Chapter 3

Thank you **Ann Jinn. Kaelir of Lorien - **I would like to blame that on autocorrect but not sure I can. Thanks for reading!

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"The whole thing is shocking, absolutely shocking. I am utterly appalled at the depths to which sentient beings will sink for money. These are immoral times we live in my friend."

That Dooku failed to notice an appreciable lack of sincerity behind the Senator's words can be explained by two reasons, the first was that Taylar, being a politician, was well practiced in the art of expressing emotions he did not feel. The second was that Dooku was not even looking at the man.

Feeling old for the first time in his life, he sunk to a nearby bench, hunched forward and wearily contemplated the remains of his half empty glass. If Taylar lacked the surprise that he professed to feel, Dooku made up for it twice over. He was aghast at the level to which he had sunk. He abhorred gossip. And yet here he was not only prepared to tolerate it for his own ends, but actually inviting it.

"I am speechless, absolutely speechless." The insincerity of this statement proved false immediately by Taylar's continued rant, "That the Council would keep a Jedi of your stature in the dark on such matters is incomprehensible."

The Senator paused and poured himself another drink. "You will excuse me if I speak candidly for a moment, for you see I know certain things. Odd bits of information tend to come my way every now and again."

He paused again, flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve then studied his well manicured fingernails for a moment, as if he were hesitant to touch on a delicate subject. "I know that you are no ordinary Jedi. And it is your very history which makes you the obvious candidate to deal with such matters, for it has become apparent that even the Jedi are not immune to the temptations of great wealth. But you, my friend, are impeachable. Far be it from me to question the wisdom of the Jedi Council, but were I the fortunate owner of a large quantity of crystalline vertex you would seem to me the natural choice to safeguard such wealth."

Taylor would have continued along this vein, but Dooku interrupted, "I am afraid I don't follow you Senator."

But here Dooku hesitated, carefully choosing his next words.

Loyalty was not a quality that Dooku held in much regard. The very base of the sentiment implied trust in a person or principles often over one's own convictions or judgment, a misguided notion at best. Dooku had found very few things in his life that deserved such esteem, and the Jedi Code was not one of them. And yet an odd loyalty must have existed in Dooku in some trace quantity for he could not allow himself to use the word so ill-favored in that belief system.

"Are you implying that the Jedi have in their... _keeping_… a fortune in crystalline vertex?"

"Have your fellow Jedi told you nothing?" Taylar was incredulous.

"I, ah hmm," Dooku cleared his throat. "I have experienced some minor communications difficulties."

"Faulty equipment?" Taylar shook his head sympathetically, "Budget constraints, indeed! It's a sad state of affairs when the treasury of the Republic lines the pockets of corrupt politicians while our protectors are sent into the field lacking the barest essentials. I have half a mind to draft a petition of complaint."

"Pray don't trouble yourself Senator. But the vertex?"

"According to my sources, the Jedi Council secretly agreed to hold a rather large quantity of crystalline vertex until ownership of the fortune could be peaceable established. I understand there was enough vertex to buy an impressive amount of real estate, if you so desired, possibly an entire system or two if you are not too particular about location."

The Senator's nose wrinkled slightly as if he had just discovered an offensive smell, clearly expressing his views regarding less than ideal locations. In a moment he recovered himself and continued.

"Not a bad plan at all if you think about it. That temple of yours is a veritable fortress, not to mention the built in security force."

"Well, as unbelievable as it sounds, an attempt was made to steal the vertex from the very heart of the Temple, from under the very noses of the Council. And this is where I was hoping you might be able to confirm a detail or two, as it all seems rather too fantastic to believe. It is said that the thief was able to breach Temple security because he himself was a Jedi. Some sort of rogue Jedi if you can imagine such a thing. Really it is surprising the amount of information the Council has managed to keep hush over the years."

_Rogue Jedi?_ For an uncomfortable moment Dooku thought the Senator was referring to Qui-Gon, until he realized this was ridiculous. He was not thinking clearly, in glancing down he was surprised to discover he was now holding an empty glass in his hand. He sighed. The whole thing was starting to give him a headache.

When Dooku made no response, Taylar continued his story. "Luckily for the Jedi, your former apprentice uncovered the plot, fought off the invader, and thwarted his plans to destroy the temple moments before disaster struck. It all is most impressive, due in part I am sure to your excellent training and example. "

"And the fate of this rogue Jedi?"

"He escaped. It seems he planned for every contingency. It now appears he plotted the destruction of the Temple from the start, the vertex was only an afterthought. They say that his real motive was revenge, possibly against Master Jinn personally. But I am rather disinclined to believe this part of the story, after all stealing the vertex is a much more understandable motivation, and revenge even in a former Jedi sounds a bit extreme. I thought it was not in your nature. Unless that is another one of those dark secrets you Jedi are hiding, along with the identity of the attacker."

There were moments when the Force brought clarity with such intensity that the impact jarred him to the bone. Insight turned to truth, and he found he knew the answer.

_Xanatos!_

Something inside of him untwisted and Dooku almost smiled. The truth was a curious relief.

How odd that until this very moment he had assumed that the threat had been political in nature. Oh, nothing so bold as an overt attack, nothing that could be tied back to the Senate itself, more likely some twisted offshoot of the greed and corruption that wormed it way throughout the system unchecked. That cancer so insidiously entwined around the Republic it was impossible to cut out without hacking off whole limbs.

But this was something else entirely.

That impudent self-serving whelp had actually stood up to the Jedi. For a moment, Dooku almost admired him for his boldness, but he knew the boy had no vision. At his center he was no different from the politicians and power mongers that Dooku despised. Xanatos was a fool, but a dangerous fool, and better dealt with at once. Dooku doubted the Council would agree.

He could almost hear Yoda extolling patience. _Wait we must, impossible to see the future is. _

"You are smiling, Master Dooku. Does my story amuse you? Perhaps you doubt its credibility, it is rather sensational. But I must say there is something about the persona of Qui-Gon Jinn that makes me believe him capable of all that I have heard and more."

"Do you know my apprentice?" Dooku could not imagine two people with less in common than Taylar and Qui-Gon Jinn.

"By reputation only. But just this morning I had the great fortune to encounter our hero himself as I made to leave Coruscant. We shared a landing platform at the central air terminal. It was not so great of a coincidence really. Reduced, you know, as we public servants are to flying commercial transport."

An expressive shrug gave you the Senator's true opinion of public transportation.

"I was quite impressed. The finest figure of a Jedi I have ever laid eyes on, present company excepted of course."

"The Jedi have always shown a certain disdain for style, but I must say after seeing your apprentice today, I was almost tempted to run out and buy myself something brown, but then there are so few who can really pull off that look. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn is one of the few. He certainly looks the part of the mighty warrior, protector of the people, off to parts unknown, sent forth to battle the danger and darkness alone."

Dooku had stopped listening entirely.

And in another moment of insight that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, Dooku knew, he _knew_ that Qui-Gon had gone in search of Xanatos.

And this was no mission sanctioned by the Council. This was action, clean, pure, Force-driven action, unfettered by the rule bound restraint and stumbling indecision of the Jedi Council.

It was revelation. Suddenly, Dooku's place of most gifted Jedi and favorite son of the Jedi Council had become too rigid a restraint. Unawares he found he had grown weary of such a passive existence. His growing restlessness had nothing to do with his missions. This fermenting discontent was the natural byproduct of an absolute stagnation.

Dooku longed to do more than merely what the Council deemed necessary and wise. He longed to exact change, to right wrong, to instill order in a disordered, unjust universe. There had been a time in his life when he had believed he was doing just that. And he had before him the means to go back.

He would go with Qui-Gon to hunt down an enemy who had not only threatened the Jedi, but who had done damage to one of their own. It took no Force knowledge to know where his padawan had gone. He would follow Qui-Gon to Telos and together they would bring Xanatos to justice.

His weariness dropped away and clarity took hold. Dooku carefully set down his glass and stood, ready again to be off, but this time with a sureness of purpose.

Qui-Gon would not face this enemy alone.

"Well, not alone exactly."

Dooku started until he realized that the Senator was merely finishing his account of what he had seen at the landing platform.

"There was the boy, of course."

"The boy?"

"His apprentice, although I believe you Jedi have another word for it."

"Padawan." Dooku supplied weakly as he sat down again, unable to decide what emotion to feel.

He took up his glass, poured and neatly swallowed the contents.

"Senator, I am afraid I might need to trouble you for a bit more information."

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	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. Sorry this took so long!

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A true Jedi is detached. It is a profession that can ill afford to show even the slightest bit of prejudice or partiality, let alone a display of any real emotion, love, hate, anger, fear. A true Jedi knows none of these things. A true Jedi is impartial and unbiased and dispassionate. Devoid of passion.

A real Jedi is nothing of the sort. They are chock full of opinion and bias and preference. They like and dislike, in matters great and small. That they rarely display these emotions has earned them a reputation for aloofness, some might even say cold-heartedness. That they do not allow themselves to be ruled by these sentiments has led many to errantly believe that they do not have them.

Most real Jedi are skillfully adept at keeping these aberrations well hidden.

But Dooku is the master.

To say you could see into the true heart of Dooku by the expression on his face would be to say you could see the bottom of the ocean by looking at its sunlit swells.

And so to cover a petty annoyance with a bland, even pleasant smile is nothing to him.

And he is annoyed. On the surface he is the picture of polite attentiveness, listening carefully to what the Senator has to say, when in all truth he can barely stand to hear another word.

His padawan is once again a master, and Dooku resents having to hear of it from a stranger.

Some small fair-minded corner of Dooku's psyche acknowledges that the blame for this is entirely his own. But little used to self-reproach his ire soon finds another mark.

He turns a critical eye on his companion and suddenly cannot fathom how he could have found such a ridiculous creature even mildly amusing. Every unfortunate gesture, every turn of phrase the Senator chooses only serves to increase his annoyance. Taylar's affected mannerisms gall. His tone of voice offends. All at once Dooku finds the man intolerable. Behind a mask of affable complacency Dooku privately catalogs a list of defects that make further conversation unbearable.

It is late. The dictates of civility, which Dooku follows when it suits him, would allow him to feign fatigue and bid the Senator good night. And yet he stays.

A less distracted Dooku should have been shocked to discover the amount of information an outsider has managed to garner on the simple life of a Jedi student, a young boy who in all likelihood has spent most of his days within the sheltered confines of the Jedi Temple.

The name, Obi-Wan Kenobi, means nothing to Dooku.

He is human. Thank the Force for small favors.

Thirteen standard years old. No Jedi prodigy this one.

And it seems the boy was slated, here Dooku almost excuses the Senator's condescending tone, for the _Agricultural Corps_ on some backwater planet. But somehow Qui-Gon intervened.

_Oh Padawan, another unwanted stray_.

It is not that Dooku objects to Qui-Gon taking another apprentice. Quite the contrary, he recalls offering the same bit of unwanted advice the last time they met.

The galaxy inexorably moves forward. No man, not even a Jedi, can change the natural order of things. Planets spin, new stars ignite, old stars burnout. And the wisdom of the Jedi is passed from master to learner as it has been for thousands of years. Dooku believes that is as it should be.

His own experience as a master has left him a changed man. To be master to another one must first master oneself. And Dooku knows he is stronger for having been Qui-Gon's master. Unfortunately he is not entirely sure he can say the same of Qui-Gon's experience with his own padawans.

Oh, there is no doubt that his apprentice has become a very powerful Jedi, one of the elite, if such a distinction were openly acknowledged among Jedi. Qui-Gon is everything a Jedi should be, a statesman, a warrior, wise in the ways of the Force, and a skilled swordsman, one of the order's best. He is, as the Senator so aptly put it, a fine figure of a Jedi.

But the eyes of his master are very sharp and ever critical, and these watchful eyes have discovered the chink in the armor of perfect Jedi. Although Dooku would not go so far as to use the dreaded word of attachment, he admits that Qui-Gon has perhaps given too much of himself to his padawans. As a master, as it has been his way in all things, Qui-Gon has lived in the moment, saving nothing for the future. And the future has not been kind.

Dooku reluctantly admits that the quiet reserve Qui-Gon has shown in recent years is not the result of his master's many frustrated attempts to teach the boy some necessary caution. It was hard won by his experience with Xanatos.

And yet Dooku is sure that hidden somewhere behind Qui-Gon's new carefully guarded exterior there lies an old weakness, a lingering soft spot for his former padawan. Even in the fiend Xanatos has become Qui-Gon is sure to see useless fragments of the young boy who was once his apprentice. He will find it difficult to kill such a monster.

It is a cruel thing to be forced to destroy one's own apprentice. But the universe is a cruel place. Dooku never shielded his padawan from that truth.

Nor himself.

He cannot place the exact moment that he came to his decision, but his mind is made up and he will not change it again. Xanatos must be dealt with, but Dooku will play no part in it. It is a task that must be borne by Qui-Gon. And he must do so alone, without the help of his old master. Dooku was never one to coddle his apprentice and he is not about to begin now.

A Jedi does not cling to the past. But it is only with a certain hollow emptiness that Dooku reluctantly lets go of his. He was foolish to think he could ever go back. He and Qui-Gon will never again be master and apprentice as they once were.

It is possible for a master and padawan to form a different kind of bond as they grow older, many have done it. Dooku could still play some part in the life of his former apprentice. He could relinquish the role of master for the role of friend and confident. There is no need for the distance between them.

No. Qui-Gon would welcome his old master, of that Dooku is certain. Just as he is certain that his opinions about the boy, the new apprentice, inevitable of course, will not be welcome.

"Oh my! Such an unfortunate end to all of your hard work. I wonder if it might not be wise to intervene before the situation gets out of hand. Don't you agree, Master Dooku?"

The mind of a Jedi is a truly amazing thing. For even in the deepest moments of introspection Dooku remains perfectly aware of his surroundings. Aware that the motion tracking lights of the terrace have grown dim and that he now sits with the Senator in near darkness, aware of the turn in conversation, of each of the Senator's comments and questions, and of each of his own politic replies.

Aware too that the situation inside the reception hall, to which the Senator refers, has subtly changed. He can feel the growing tension and unrest even from a distance. There is too an obvious physical separation, through the doorway he can see that opposing sides no longer mingle together but have entrenched themselves on opposite sides of the room.

"Of course Senator, it is sometimes the way of these things. In diplomacy there are often minor setbacks on the path to true accord. And I agree. It would be best to intercede before something regrettable occurs. Shall we?"

Or perhaps a shade less than perfectly aware, for as he stands and graciously bids the Senator to precede him through the doorway, there is one small thing that he fails to notice. It might be nothing at all really, a trick of light and shadow. But in the half moment before the lights glimmer on a close observer might notice something truly odd about Taylar's demeanor. Gone is the vacuous expression that normally resides on the Senator's face. His eyes glint with an uncharacteristic intensity, as a predator eyes its prey. Then, in an instant, the dangerous look is smoothed over by the innocuous mask of politician

Had those sharp eyes caught a rare glint into the inner workings of the mind of one of the greatest Jedi of his time? Had the Senator perhaps unearthed a clue to the complex brilliance that lies hidden beneath the carefully subtle exterior?

For Dooku is a frighteningly complex being. He does nothing without a reason. Often more than one reason. the reason he tells himself why he has chosen to do or not do some particular thing. And the real reason. And in this instance, they are two very different things.

In his mind he is resolute. Leaving Qui-Gon to face Xanatos alone is an unfortunate necessity. A final test, if you will, to push him, as Dooku has always pushed him, to make him stronger, to make him harder. To better arm him against the future so that no new padawan can inflict damage like the last one. He believes this rationale because it is flavored with a bit of truth.

The real reason he cannot face his padawan is buried somewhere deep inside him and is likely to stay there. Because it tastes a lot like fear.

Though he knows nothing of this boy, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dooku knows his own padawan well. There is a chance even now that the danger has not passed. The walls Qui-Gon has carefully built up are not completely unassailable. There is a vulnerability in Qui-Gon that Dooku finds unsettling.

Unsettling because of its vague familiarity.

And here at last we come to the true reason that Dooku stays away. For it is only when he sees Qui-Gon and especially Qui-Gon in his role as master that Dooku is reminded of his own dark secret. A secret he keeps even from himself. Only in rare moments of perfect candor will Dooku admit to himself that he has perhaps let his own padawan matter in a way that is unwise for a Jedi.

For you see Dooku too has a flaw in his armor. It is not easy to spot for it is well out of the way and he is careful to keep the surface well polished. Most days even he can forget it exists and others rarely look beyond the brilliant sheen on the surface. The very few who know have kept silent.

That a great Jedi has fallen just short of perfection is indeed noteworthy, but of little interest to any but the strictest adherents to the Jedi code, and Dooku does not count himself among these. But that the Senator would find this lapse in perfection a subject for intense examination is very curious indeed.

Or perhaps the Senator's odd behavior should merely be put down to the effects of some very potent spirits, Corellian Brandy has borne the blame for much worse, which could also account for some rather uncharacteristic behavior on the part of Dooku himself.

For it is remarkable that such a well organized mind, a mind trained to examine situations from all angles, should fail to pose one fundamental question. That for all his reason and logic, for all his critical assessment of the master-padawan relationship, that not once did Dooku ask himself what he would do if he were to find himself in Qui-Gon's situation. Not once did he ask himself what difficulties he would face were he to find himself at serious odds with his own padawan, on opposite sides of an epic moral dilemma.

The thought never even occurred to him.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Senator Taylar was of the opinion that breakfast was a meal best taken alone, served as it was at such an uncivilized hour. Lunch was another matter entirely.

The real work of the Galactic Senate, as with most great political systems, was rarely conducted within the walls of the structure expressly built for that purpose. The great compromises necessary to the survival of democracy were not mediated in the halls of the Senate, but hashed out at lunch counters or vigorously debated in elegant private dining rooms. Loyalties and alliances were sworn and foresworn around coffee tables in senatorial apartments and over drinks in exclusive Coruscanti clubs. The real votes were decided, on the strength of merit, money or coercion, long before they were cast from hover pods in the Grand Convocation Chamber of the Senate.

The Senator naturally considered a solitary luncheon a wasted opportunity. As for dinner, well Taylar would have been truly distressed if the number of his dinner guests fell below the essential minimum requisite of eight.

But this morning, as always, he breakfasted alone.

He drank from a steaming cup and smiled to himself. His breakfast was served in a small sitting area just off his sleep chambers. The table was elegantly set with formal serving ware embellished with the ornate crest of some local nobility and offered a tempting array of sweet breads and fresh fruit. The senator was fully dressed and groomed, needing only to replace his dressing gown with his outer jacket, which had been brushed and pressed and carefully laid out for him on the bed by his personal attendant droid.

The stim caf was excellent and the pastry buttery soft, but neither the food nor the other fine amenities of his guest quarters were wholly responsible for his excellent mood. He was very well pleased with himself. Had he not worked so hard to cultivate a meticulously refined musical taste he might almost have allowed himself to hum the small tune that bubbled up in his mind half remembered from humble beginnings so effectively concealed and rewritten that even he sometimes had trouble recalling the true story of his own childhood.

The negotiations had gone well, very well indeed, but Taylar had expected that. And he was too savvy a politician to try to claim more than his small share of the credit. No, the credit here belonged to a better man. A great man. The whispered tales of Dooku's forsaken heritage, of the immense wealth and power of the Serenno family were all very impressive, but these were nothing compared to the man himself.

It pleased Senator Taylar to no end to have his name thrown together with greatness, even if only by slight association. He was not above a bit of name dropping if tastefully done. But this was not what made the Senator smile this morning as he stirred a bit more sweetener into his stim caf.

That the Senator was a valuable source of information was common knowledge to just about everyone on Coruscant, from the great political power brokers down to the mettlesome prying gossip columnists. But just how he came by this wealth of information was a mystery that no one could make out.

Taylar had found that the simple mistake most people made was to go looking for information. In the Senator's experience this more often than not came to nothing. For the best secrets, secrets of any value were too carefully guarded, or too high priced. Taylar had found over the years that the easiest way to pry loose even the tightest held secret was simply not to pry. It was not enough of feign disinterest, one had to truly be disinterested.

Now finding the interested party, one with the willingness and resources to pay, that was the real trick, and not the work of a day. As was knowing when someone was trying to conceal something of value.

Novices to the game of sabacc are often fooled into believing in the luck of the deal and fate of the randomizer, whereas the veteran knows the true art of the game lies in reading your opponent's cards in their face.

This was Taylar's natural born talent. It was in his blood. What a shocking revelation this would be to his friends and colleagues in the Senate, but it was all right there in the genealogy page of his Senate biography on the Holonet. His official family history ran rather long on words like entrepreneur, organizer, businessman, speculator and financier and rather short on perhaps slightly more accurate words like hustler, sharpie, con, crook, fraud, hustler, shark, and swindler. But it was there if you read with a careful understanding.

And although the Senator imagined himself to be far removed from the sordid occupations of his predecessors, he was not so very different. He was really just swimming in a bigger pond, with bigger fish.

Like the true gambler that he was Taylar understood that it was not the cards you are dealt, for what he currently held in his hand appeared, at face value, to be of no consequence.

All he possessed was an observation. A careful observation of a man, a very powerful man, who did as all powerful men do, he walked the path of his choosing regardless of the consequences. His discreet examination had revealed an ambitious man, but all great men are ambitious. That this man was a Jedi and supposedly held himself to loftier ideals was interesting, but of no real value to Taylar or his constituents.

No, what had caught the Senator's attention was something much more trivial, no more than a passing look, a fleeting emotion, hardly worth mentioning. Taylar only took note of it because Dooku worked so carefully to conceal it. He had guessed at Dooku's hand and would not take odds against what he surmised. He had seen what Dooku valued above all else, possibly even above his own ambition. He knew what Dooku carrier close to his heart.

The Senator was aware that this knowledge might never be of any value, but his gambler's instincts told him otherwise. He also knew that it was how you played the cards you are dealt that really mattered.

For as any real sabacc player is aware, the stakes can change in an instant.

Life is a game of skill as much as chance. When the randomizer strikes you must be in position to gain the advantage.

And if you played your cards right, you could sit at the high stakes table, be an insider in a city where exclusivity is everything. All it takes is the patience to wait and see how the game plays out.

_Twelve years later…_


End file.
